


bleed red enough for both

by Anonymous



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Coercion, Fellatio, Incest, M/M, Underage - Freeform, dark themes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-28
Updated: 2020-02-28
Packaged: 2021-02-28 00:14:36
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 758
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22944607
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: Ben makes threats, Luke capitulates. Though this pattern is lifelong, it is not sustainable.
Relationships: Luke Skywalker/Ben Solo | Kylo Ren
Comments: 1
Kudos: 13
Collections: Anonymous Fics, Writing Rainbow Red





	bleed red enough for both

**Author's Note:**

  * For [indigo_inks](https://archiveofourown.org/users/indigo_inks/gifts).



Ben corners Luke shortly after the mid-afternoon meal.

"You always say no." Ben scowls and, slumping in his seat, crosses his arms as he looks away. "You don't even care about me."

By now, the stages of the argument are familiar, but nonetheless awful. Ben wants something; Luke attempts to nudge him back to a safer path; Ben threatens someone; Luke pacifies him. When he was a toddler, Ben wanted pastries and no bedtime and to sit in the pilot's seat; his threats centered on breaking toys, hurting pets. As he grew older, his threats grew correspondingly larger. 

"Your father's due in after moonrise," Luke reminds him. "Let's talk about this later."

He hopes that Han will be able to distract Ben, as he always has. 

"Clia's ear tufts are coming in," Ben says musingly. He's deliberately ignoring Luke. One doesn't have to be remotely sensitive to the Force to intuit that fact. His gaze is leveled on the little Bothan girl. She has only been with them since the last rainy season, and in that time, she has made great progress toward accepting her power and refining it.

Just now, however, she's playing keepaway with Kaz and Pribang, giggling and jumping between them. Her shaggy golden fur loves the sunlight.

"Wonder how much those fetch back home," Ben concludes. His eyes cut over to Luke to make sure that he is not just listening, but understanding.

As a child, Ben plucked scales from his pet goldie and kept them in his pocket. He only cried when his mother found the fish clogging the compost egress.

Now he's suggesting — no. He is _promising_ to shear off that little girl's tufts and sell them.

"You can't have run out of your allowance already?" Luke tries for jocularity. "Good thing your dad's almost here. If it were your mom, no chance of overdraft."

"If she were coming, you'd be a lot hornier," Ben says.

"Ben."

The kid shifts in his seat and exhales. "Whatever. Not like I need the money."

"Exactly," Luke says.

"Just want those ears for fun, you know?"

 _I wanted to see what would happen_ , little Ben would say. _I didn't think it was bad._ So powerful, so curious, so desperate to make his mark on the world. _Just wanted to have some fun._

The easiest marks to make are cuts and bruises. Torture.

Luke reminds himself that Han will be here soon. It's not fair, but he is looking forward to the respite. His other pupils deserve his attention. 

He squeezes Ben's shoulder as he stands. "Let's forget this, shall we?"

A vine, invisible as it is implacable, wraps around Luke's wrist and jerks him back down. It's not the Force, not anything like the Force he knows. It intrudes, it commands, it _wreaks_. His skin burns, his bones grind.

"All right," he says, keeping his tone light. "What can I do for you, Ben?"

Ben doesn't look at him. He isn't shy; he just does not care enough to pretend anything but boredom and disrespect. "Take care of me."

It's their code. It's _Ben's_ code.

It's a disgusting reversal of what the words actually mean. Caretaking is not what Luke is doing, not of Ben, not of himself. Not here in the back of the temple, where Luke has ushered him hurriedly. The stone floor is still warm from the sun against his knees. Ben shoves his penis into Luke's mouth, his rhythm ragged, his breathing sharp. 

He always gets what he wants. He always has. He's their beautiful child, Han's brash courage and Leia's scimitar-sharp cleverness and Luke's...Luke doesn't remember whatever it is he once had to offer. He's the dust on the floor, the dark orange curling things beneath the stones, the dirt and broken wings. He is whatever gets left behind as life develops and grows: placenta gone rotten and crumbly, come dried tacky in an old man's beard, pupal walls split and abandoned.

When he comes, Ben's face is red and sweaty, his eyes screwed shut. The cascade of his fantasies passes through Luke's mind, terrible shrieks and begging mouth, Leia pinned to a wheel, Han spitroasted by Gamorreans, cities aflame. Stars winking out. Lightning.

Vader sucking for breath; Luke choking on the spurting spill of Ben's come.

"Thanks," Ben says, tucking himself away and shaking back his hair. "You're the best uncle _ever_. Don't know what I'd do without you."

If Luke keeps capitulating, if he just continues to do as Ben wants, maybe he can buy enough time.


End file.
